These Days
by Am I Blue
Summary: (Complete) "So I take care of her for him, sometimes. I keep her safe. These days, he just helps her forget."
1. Preface

**These Days**

Really? Well, yeah. We all knew. She knew. The doctor confirmed it, he gave it a date, a name. Rita, Belle of the Bronx. She was emotionless when they told her, she'd known all along. That doctor was supposed to reassure Snoddy, whose ring she twisted around her finger as she listened. I know because I was there - for Snoddy. We're best friends, you know. So sometimes I take care of her for him. I keep her safe. These days, he just helps her forget.


	2. Week One

These Days  
_week one_

She has stopped working now and I have someone else to sell for me. Snoddy, he's at the bar again, probably deep into his misery. It is late summer and we sit on the Lodging House stoop, my skinned knees and her kind face. I know her so well, but still it's awkward. She catches me stealing looks at her, her face, her body, those new bags under her eyes, and she doesn't say anything but it makes me feel guilty nonetheless. Sometimes I feel like Snoddy: I can't come to terms with it. I haven't asked her anything. Yet. Instead I play it safe. This is not a job I would have asked for.

"Are you hungry?" I ask this looking at my boots. One scuffs at the other uncomfortably.

I can see her shrug from the corner of my eye. "Not really," she says, settling down with her elbows on her own knees, which are tucked up to her chest childishly.

"You, uhm…" I scratch at my neck, now, desperate not to make eye contact. "The doctor… well, he was saying you should be eating, er, drinking. A lot." Shit. "Uhm. Keep you healthy."

She just shrugs again. "Let's go for a walk."  
-  
She's still pretty, and I don't feel as bad staring at her now because I am walking behind her. Her hips sway just the slightest bit when she walks, her legs are long and sometimes her skirt will swing up a little and I catch a glimpse of those smooth ankles. Her arms are uncovered and on her left hand she wears that ring that Snoddy gave her, the one that she likes because the light catches it. Her eyes and her hair are brown and dark and she likes to smile. She used to smile a lot. I wonder if she still will.

"Why don't you walk up here with me, Specs?" She asks and looks over her shoulder, catching me once again. I start to walk faster so I can be right beside her.

"It's a gorgeous day," she says, and when I don't answer, adds, "do you wish you were selling?"

"No," I say. "Not really. Not now. It's… it's nice not to worry about it."

She nods, and we walk in silence a little more. I know that she is thinking about Snoddy, and why he is still selling, but I'm glad that she doesn't ask me. I wouldn't know how to answer.

---

Later the next day Snoddy gives me money to take her out to lunch, because I told him that she wasn't eating and he got a little upset. Rita didn't care, she told him that she wasn't hungry, and when that didn't work she told him that she wasn't feeling well. He apologized, then, and became sad. They talked.  
-  
I read the day's newspaper while she works on a sandwich, eating it in small bites and chewing a lot. I can't tell whether she is forcing it down or trying to savor it. I think about what the doctor said: he gave her four weeks and no more, but looking at her eat that sandwich she seems fine, so a little part of me hopes that she'll make it for more. Forever. For Snoddy.

I forget about that hope, though, when she starts coughing.

---

All the other guys, I think they're just like me. They don't know what to do. They avoid her without meaning to, which is sad, because I think it makes her feel bad. But it's not their fault. They just don't know what to say. They start to look at me like that, too, a little, until I talk to them, and I talk about her like she's still normal. Like she's still the girl they all grew up having crushes on, not the girl who will be dead before the end of next month. They talk to me, but they don't talk to her. And they don't talk to Snoddy.

---

Now it's Friday and I take her to the park because it's another beautiful day. I'm in a good mood and she's in a good mood, but then she starts asking questions.

"Specs," she says. We're lounging around under one of the big maple trees. "Is he really too busy to see me?"

She looks at me and somehow the power of her gaze forces me to meet her eyes.

"Uhm," I say. "He tries. He… he has a lot of meetings to go to. And stuff. He has to make a lot of people happy." But I know that right at that moment the only meeting he had was with a bartender, and the only person he was set on making happy was himself. I don't dare tell her any of those thoughts.

"Yeah," she says thoughtfully, and sighs. "I guess it must be really hard, taking over like this."

"It's a lot of work," I agree, ready to back up whatever reasoning she might have.

"I'll get to see him tonight." And she says this as if it will comfort me, but it's really just to reassure herself.

---

When Jack left there was no chaos. There were no fights, no hurt feelings. Everybody was too shocked to do anything but the normal routine, we were frozen and hurt and we went on pretending that he was still there. We went on pretending for a long time.

Maybe Rita noticed because she was an outside observer, I don't know, but she convinced Snoddy that he had to step it up somewhere. And I agreed, of course, because if no one else was going to take action than Snoddy may as well take charge. No one challenged him. Not in our area, at least.

---

A lot of the time I end up forgetting that she is sick, and that helps our relationship. For some reason it surprised me that she just wanted to talk about normal things, like my friends, and her own gossip, and selling. I guess I thought that she would be talking about the doctor, and her illness. That she would be thinking a lot about her time left, or maybe she wouldn't even be talking at all. With her acting so normal, I forget easily, and I am able to act normal, too. But not Snoddy. He hasn't been around her enough lately to see this, and I can see the stiffness in his movements and speaking, and the way his eyes look at her in pity and regret instead of love.

Her eyes still shine with love. They remain bright, even as her skin grows paler.


	3. Week Two

**These Days  
_week two _**

Today she did not get out of bed. I went over to the boarding house where she stays but the man at the desk said she had not come down yet. Immediately I went to find Snoddy. He was about to leave for Queens to meet with someone there, but he followed me anyway. I watched him go up to see her and I waited downstairs for over an hour, but he did not return.When I was about to leave he came down and tapped me on the shoulder and told me to go to Queens in his place. I asked if Rita was okay and he said that she was fine, just sad. Then he left again. He looked exhausted. I wondered if spending time with her like this was really so much of an effort for him.

So that's why I'm here, in Queens, staring at its self proclaimed 'leader' in the face. He's talking at me real fast but all I can think about is Rita. And Snoddy. And I'm worried, but that's the last thing I want to show in a meeting with a potential ally… or enemy.

Reese, the Queens boy, he looks at me after awhile and he can tell I haven't been listening.

"Where's Snoddy?" He asks. I hadn't told him much.

"His girl is sick," I say, then add, "real sick," and I make sure that the look in my eyes silences any side comments he would have had.

"Well… alright. Send him here later, yeah? When she's better."

I just nod and leave, silent. I think that maybe he understands.

---

That night both Snoddy and Rita meet the rest of us outside the Lodging House - he never takes her in, old Kloppman would have a fit at the site of a girl - so we could all go to Medda's together. Snoddy and I walk with Rita in between us, and the other boys and their girls make an effort to talk to Rita. Their voices are strained, and she can tell, but I'm glad that they are trying.

In the theatre we sit the same way, Rita sandwiched in between Snoddy and I. I spend a lot of the performance stealing looks at her, the intense redness of her lips and the glint of her eyes when she smiles. These two features are in stark contrast with the rest of her face, which is pale and gray and bruised. One time she looks over too and holds my gaze for a few seconds. I look away first, though, and blush, and attempt to watch the show for the rest of the time. I cannot meet her eyes for the rest of the night, even when she talks to me.

-

Our group sees their girls off at their various places of living as we work our way home, and when we get to Rita's boarding house we all watch as she leads Snoddy up the stairs with a sly smile. The boys hoot and holler like usual and those of us that remain go back to the Lodging House and set up the upstairs for our usual game of quiet cards. We've long since realized that Kloppman doesn't bother us if we don't bother him.

I'm not feeling up to anything, but I join in for a few hands mainly because it would be a little strange if I didn't. There is the usual amount of swearing and cheating and lewd jokes before anything catches my ear. It's Racetrack, and he's looking at me from under that greasy mop of hair, cigar hanging out of the corner of his smirk.

"Wonder when Snoddy'll get back," he says, and elbows Swifty, who smiles his quick smile. The others around the table snicker and laugh quietly and I smile, too. It's normal.

"Dontcha think it's a little strange, though?" Race continues, his voice dropping so everyone around him leans involuntarily closer. "Screwin' with a dead bird?"

And everyone laughs at this, even Swifty, who follows it up with some kind of comment about the only type of lay Snoddy can get. But my blood is boiling, and I throw down my cards. That quiets everyone. I look Racetrack straight in the eye, and remind him very calmly that she's not dead yet. He looks like he can't decide whether to be ashamed or to defend his position. But Race isn't the type of guy to be ashamed of himself.

"Close enough," he mumbles, but he can't meet my eyes when he says this. I leave the table and go to bed, lying in my bunk and staring at the wall with only the hushed sound of bets and awkward silence to keep me company.

---

We go to the park again and walk for awhile, and she just talks and talks and talks. She looks a little better, energetic, and full of smiles for me and everyone we pass by. She tells me about her mother and her dead sister and her fears and her dreams and not once does death or illness enter the conversation. She talks a lot about Snoddy; I listen as she shows me through words how she views him, and I say nothing. To her he is a god. But he is in Queens. And while I can stand here and brace her shoulders while she stops talking and begins to cough, he is the only one who can help her to forget about why she is coughing.

When she is done she resumes our conversation and tells me how much she loves him, so I give her a smile of my own. What I am really thinking, though, is that there is no reason for Snoddy not to be in my place.

---

Snoddy has to meet with people because nobody trusts him. And nobody trusts him because nobody knows him. To them, he was the nameless boy selling papers who just… appeared. He never had any sort of a reputation before he stepped forward.

It had taken Jack awhile to gain any sort of trust, it had really taken the strike to secure it. Then he had up and left, and the rest of the boroughs and other areas around the city didn't like the idea of having to adjust to another new force.

So Snoddy was making a huge effort to remain on everyone's good side. To get to know everyone and get our section of Manhattan running smoothly and happily again. Because of this, he didn't think he had any time to focus on anything else. I knew better.


	4. Week Three

****

These Days  
_week three_

Now we're into the third week, and this is when things start to get hard. This afternoon, Rita starts crying to me, and it is the first time I've seen tears in those bright eyes. I think that maybe it's because it's the third week, and that means that we are quickly approaching the end of the doctor's prediction. She tells me in pieces of sentences about the wall by her bed in the boarding house, and how she's scratched out a tally mark every morning with her fingernails. I look down and see them, they are raw and broken.

I don't know what to say and so I put a hand around her shoulders awkwardly and hug her close, hoping that this is comfort in some way. I hold her like this until she quiets down a little and rubs at her eyes, then looks at me apologetically.

"I'm sorry," she says, sniffling. "I'm so, so sorry."

I'm still holding her. She has made no sign of wanting to move away.

"Why?" I ask finally.

She doesn't answer for a long time, and when she does, I can barely hear her.

"I'm sorry," she says again.

---

For some reason, I think that she will forget about it, that she will be happy just like last week. But she doesn't. It's early afternoon and we're sitting on a bench in the park. She seems fine, but then she gets this faraway look in her eyes and I see the sadness there once more.

"I'm so scared," she tells the sky, then turns to me and grabs my hands tightly. "God, Specs, I'm so afraid."

So I gather her into my arms just like before.

"Shh… shh… you have nothing to worry about," I say, although now she has me thinking and I realize that I have a little fear as well.

"I'm so scared," she sobs into my shoulder. "I'm just so scared."

---

And later that night, much later, after Snoddy has come back from his time at Rita's, he talks to me about it… just like I knew he would. He's usually happy and tired when he gets back from there, and playful, smug. But tonight he's jealous. He doesn't come right out and say it, but I can tell from the tone of his voice.

"How'd the park go?" He asks me when everyone is either sleeping or at least in bed. "Good day?"

"It was alright," I say with a shrug. "She was a little sad."

"I've already talked to her," Snoddy interrupts. "And what about you? One of the boys told me you two were getting a little close."

I frown up at him. "Like I said," I say. "She was sad."

"Oh? Sad, huh? Sad enough not to resist when ya kissed her, right?"

"I didn't kiss her, Snoddy." I try my best to remain calm. "What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" He begins to get a little upset. "What about you! I give you my best girl in _my_ greatest time of need and _her_ greatest time of need, and I give her to you to keep safe, and look at how you treat her! Look at how you treat _me_!"

"Look at yourself!" My own voice raises against my control. "You call her your best girl and you say you love her, but look what you put before her! She's _dying,_ Snoddy, and, yes, I said it. She's not going to be around much longer and instead of spending time with her you dump her on a friend like she's a problem and avoid her as much as possible! What are you _doing_!?"

For a long time he can only stare at me, his fists clenched and face flushed with anger. I know he wants to hit me, but he won't, not in the Lodging House, where we'll both be kicked out for the night for any sort of violence. He wants to hit me so badly not just because he's mad about what I said, but also because he knows that my accusations are true. He doesn't want to believe them, not one bit.

"I love her," he says through gritted teeth. "Don't you dare say any other way."

"But how much?" I ask him desperately, my voice back down low. "She looks up to you like she would any god. She wants to die _with_ you, Snoddy. Near you. She just wants to be with you."

He looked at the floor.

"Why won't you give her even that?" I ask softly.

Snoddy walks away. My hands tingle a little, I can still feel her safe under them. My head rings with her worries, and as I watch him go, in this third week, I have only anger.

---

The next day I meet up with Rita again and Snoddy is nowhere in sight. I don't tell her about our talk, but I think she can sense something from my own quiet, brooding manner, so she says little. She sighs sadly and grabs my hand, and I make no effort to shake her off no matter what Snoddy may end up thinking. She needs comfort, she needs security. Her hand feels cold and thin in mine. She shivers in the sunlight and at last I begin to realize just how little time she really has left.


	5. Week Four

****

These Days  
_week four_

When I wake up I can tell that something is different, something in the air feels strange and new. For what seems like the hundredth time I watch the rest of the boys go off to sell their papers while I, alone, stay behind. As usual Snoddy is nowhere in sight, and I begin to wonder what it will take to make him realize.

The day is gray and more and more clouds begin to roll in as I walk to Rita's. She is waiting by the door for me and I can tell that she too senses the difference. Maybe it's because it's the fourth week. The last week. We meet each other's eyes sadly and she gives me a weak smile. I have trouble answering it.

"So," I say. "Where to today? Where would you like to go? What would you like to do?"

She glances up at the sky quickly. "I think I'd just like to go for a walk, if that's okay with you."

"Of course," I say, and we turn down the next street together.

"How…" I hesitate, but she looks expectantly at me, waiting for me to go on. "How do you feel today?"

It's the first time that I've ever asked her something like that, and the words feel strange. But it's the fourth week. I feel like I can't go on trying to forget.

"Alright," she says slowly. "Tired. And sad. A little unsteady." She wobbles a little as if to prove her point and then clutches at my hand for support. But once again she doesn't let go. "And yourself?"

I smile. "Just fine, thanks."

After that there is comfortable silence between us, just the clacking of our shoes against the well worn cobblestones. Her thumb strokes the back of my hand idly and it makes me shudder. Even now, with her eyes dulled by exhaustion, she's beautiful.

It begins to sprinkle, cold, cold rain, and I squeeze her hand a little tighter. She says nothing about stopping our walk but I begin to worry.

"Are you sure you want to stay out?" I ask as the drops start to come down harder. "I don't know if we should, you might…"

"What?" She laughs, and looks at me, "I might catch a cold?"

I blush a little and bow my head, an action that sends the water from my hair running down my face and into my eyes. She laughs again, quietly, and then stops and tilts my chin up so she can wipe the water away for me. Her hand is freezing and I try again.

"You don't want to go inside?" I say, trying my best to be convincing.

And she looks me straight in the eye. "Specs," she says, trying to be casual. "It might not be raining tomorrow."

---

Later that afternoon we go back to her room so she can rest. She's gets tired early in the day now, she can't go far without a break. I make some tea for her in the makeshift kitchen in the corner of her room and we sit in silence, enjoying each other's company.

She takes a nap and I stand by the room's one window, watching the rain continue to pour down outside. Even when she's sleeping she looks exhausted, and the sight leaves me bitter. And even this slight relief does not last long, as she begins to cough and wakes herself up. I help her sit up and prop pillows and blankets up behind her back and hold the mug of tea for her while she sips at it. When her bout is over she sighs softly and leans back on the pillows with her eyes closed.

I am about to ask her something when there is a knock on her door. She makes no move even though I am sure she is still awake, so I straighten from my crouch and go back to the window, assuming that she doesn't want to answer it.

The door opens anyway and I can see the reflection of Snoddy between the raindrops on the window. I keep my back turned as he shakes off his clothes and his hair and then I follow his progress as he stops by the bed, where Rita is still pretending to sleep, and then moves on to me. He puts a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"I can take over from here," he says. I nod and move away towards the door. Before closing it behind me, I turn around and see them: Snoddy is sitting on her bed with one of her hands in both of his, and she is beginning to open her eyes. He senses my gaze and turns a little.

"Thanks," he mouths, and I close the door.

-

Outside the rain is pouring down harder than ever, but I find a bench and sit down and tip my head back and open my mouth. It's like she said. Tomorrow, it might not be raining.

---

I get back into my regular routine right away. Nothing has changed in the three weeks that I've been absent from my real job, and so I find it easy to slip right back into the ranks as a nameless, faceless newsboy.

I never see Rita outside but I spend a lot of time thinking about her, and I make a point to walk past her boarding house a few times a day. Sometimes I see Snoddy up there, staring out the window like I did, but we still can't make eye contact. I find that I don't care if he's still angry at me, I'm just glad that Rita has him, at least for this last week.

---

Friday evening comes with plans for Medda's and poker games, and I'm walking back to the Lodging House to grab my coat when I drop my hat on the street. And somehow -- somehow I know -- in the time between dropping my hat and picking it up again -- I just know.

And so I drop my hat again and run in the opposite direction.

I don't knock at the door, something tells me that it's open. I take one step inside the room and then freeze, speechless. Snoddy is sitting on the bed, just like when I had left him days ago, but his arms are cradling Rita's head, and this time she is not feigning sleep. He is holding her tight and shaking, trying so hard not to cry and failing at it. If he heard me come in he makes no move to show it.

I walk the few steps to the bed and kneel to the floor, taking one of Rita's cold hands in one of my own and squeezing Snoddy's shoulder with the other.

"I couldn't stop it," Snoddy says, his voice broken and choked up. "I tried so hard, but I just couldn't stop it. God, and she's gone, now… she's gone…"

I don't say anything, just look at her face, which is peaceful.

"I don't think she blames you," I say, then, keeping my eyes on her face. "She's not worried."

---

So that's the way it was left.

I notice things about Snoddy now, things that are different. Like how much he laughs, and how he only tries to do one thing at a time. I notice how kind he is now, and how, like me, the rain no longer stops him.

---

****

end

thanks to: the first snowfall, hot chocolate, snuggling on the couch, flannel pants, "Fool in the Rain" by Led Zeppelin, 40 minute study hall, and that little, random paragraph that I never thought I'd use.


End file.
